


Aftercare

by fififolle



Category: The Last King (2016)
Genre: Aftermath, Age Difference, First Kiss, Fix-It, Hand Jobs, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Norwegian Mythology & Folklore, Pain, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, birkebeiner
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-27
Updated: 2016-11-27
Packaged: 2018-09-02 14:42:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,081
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8671477
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fififolle/pseuds/fififolle
Summary: Egil looks after Torstein. PWP/hc. Some may see Egil as underage, but I don't.





	

The baby king was safe, and at last Torstein knew he could rest. If only his damn shoulder wasn't trying to tear his body apart with the pain. And he wanted to rub his beard. He tried to move his other shoulder, but in truth, it wasn't worth it. He quietly growled away the agony, and pretended he could sleep in this cold barn, no worse than his usual sleeping arrangements. Skjervald, the lucky bastard, was recovering in the house, as his wounds were more severe. Tomorrow, as soon as dawn broke, they would take the baby king to Nidaros to claim his rightful place.

“Torstein?” The small voice near him was Egil. Young, brave Egil, who had kept such good watch, and driven the baby king's sleigh like the wind. Torstein had been right about him, that one day, he would be a great birkebeiner like his father. That day had come.

“I am fine,” he grumbled in reply.

There was a silence in which Torstein could feel Egil's disbelief.

“Audun said that you should check the wound. Have you checked your wound?”

Egil was brave, Torstein gave him that. Not many young men would poke a bear so hard.

“Are you a healer now, like Audun?” He smiled to himself in the dark. “You were the king's watchman, the king's sleigh driver, and now a healer?” He frowned as he heard Egil moving about in the dark. Then there was the scratch of a flint, and the fire between them was lit.

Torstein blinked as the flames began to flicker. Egil's face was caught in the light – an innocent determination there, the bruise forming on his cheek. He looked up, and their eyes met. Torstein couldn't look away.

Egil spoke quietly as he moved towards him. “Audun took the arrow out, but the fight today will have kept the wounds open. Let me look at your shoulder.” He reached out, hesitated, and Torstein struggled not to flinch. There was only the sound of the cows shuffling at the other end of the barn.

So many days they had been on the run, he and Skjervald, with the baby. Hard to believe it was all over. “All right, then, Egil the healer.” He offered a smile with the jibe.

The warmth of the fire helped a little as Egil gently began to peel away layers of clothing from Torstein. He didn't like being so helpless, but he had nothing to fear from Egil. It wasn't easy, though, to take the touch of another so easily. “You couldn't sleep either?”

Egil smiled wryly. “It's hard, you know? After days of running...” He reached the bandage running around his shoulder, and Torstein tensed as the cloth was peeled back. 

He struggled to stay conscious through the pain. “You aren't... aren't going to make me drink fish oil, are you?” It might be nourishing, but it tasted bloody awful.

Egil gave him a puzzled look. “No. Now stay still, and let me see.”

As if he could move from this spot. The arrow had gone in through the back, and Audun had cut it out from the front. Torstein felt like he'd had a pike rammed through his shoulder.

“Hmm.” Egil looked closely at his wound, and the shadows played on his pale skin where his neck met his shoulder. “I think it is all right for now. It needs rest.”

“As we both do.”

Egil nodded. “Let me help you to take a piss, and then maybe we will both sleep better.”

“It might take more than that,” muttered Torstein, and he was sure that Egil gripped him a little tighter as he helped him to stand and move. He was grateful for the help, for sure, Egil standing behind him as he relieved himself.

Torstein could feel Egil was trembling as he took the larger man's weight to help him back to sit on his bench. “Torstein... I would... I would help you if you _wanted_ me.”

The birkebeiner was distracted from the pain for a moment, knowing what Egil was asking him. He had no idea the young man had any experience of such things, and yet... Egil's hand lingered on his chest, and the heat from the boy reached his bones.

“Want?” Torstein said breathlessly. “Egil, I...” He gripped Egil's hand tightly, pulled him closer, but willing him to understand his hesitation.

Egil pleaded. “Sometimes, Frikk and I would share a bed. Please, Torstein...”

Torstein felt anger in his breast. Frikk, that reckless fool, did not deserve someone as perfect as Egil. The anger bloomed into possessiveness, taking Torstein by surprise. He wrapped his good arm around Egil and pulled him closer, his hand tugging the young man down into a warm, open-mouthed kiss. Egil startled momentarily, but then leaned into Torstein's embrace and returned the kiss enthusiastically.

“Let me,” Egil said, his nimble fingers tugging at Torstein's belt. Torstein didn't have enough strength to stop him even if he wanted, and found himself with Egil's hand wrapped firmly around his cock. He gasped.

“Are you okay?” Egil was as breathless as he was.

“Don't fucking stop,” Torstein groaned. It had been so long. The pain and the pleasure were a heady mix.

Egil laughed lightly, nervous, happy. He kept up a strong rhythm on Torstein's cock while he opened his own breeches. “I need... I'm sorry.”

Torstein cupped Egil's face and pulled the boy in for a hard kiss. “It's okay.” He yanked Egil closer by the hip, then managed to wrap his hand around Egil's cock with the last of his energy. He wasn't small. Took after his father in many ways. “You did well, Egil. I'm so proud of you. Will you come for me?”

Egil kissed Torstein over and over, as his cock spilled in Torstein's hand. He jerked Torstein's cock clumsily, but it was enough to push the birkebeiner over the edge, and Torstein came too, hard, a cry on his lips. Thank fuck only the cows would hear them. They grinned at each other, foreheads pressed together, panting softly, sharing breath.

Egil wordlessly cleaned them up, and helped Torstein to lie down, before settling himself next to him, taking care not to jostle his shoulder.

“Sleep well, Torstein,” he whispered.

Torstein could feel the long sleep of recovery calling to him, and pressed a grateful kiss to Egil's hair. “And you, brave one.” He closed his eyes, and let relief have the victory.

~


End file.
